


Just Us

by Felixbug



Series: Breaking the Silence [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Facials, Lyrium, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Sex Toys, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“You’re amazing like this,” he said, hearing the catch in his voice as Hawke’s teeth grazed his knuckles. “The sounds you make, the way you take my cock.” Hawke groaned around his fingers and Anders began to thrust them rhythmically. “You’re going to come for me again.” Hawke whined and Anders grinned before leaning forward to nip Hawke’s ear sharply. “And you’re going to scream my name when you do.”</i> </p><p>Even in a three-way relationship, sometimes it's nice to spend some time one on one. Three nights in the life of Hawke, Anders, and Justice. Reading the rest of the series isn't essential - this is pretty much PWP, and each chapter works as a self-contained story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anders/Hawke

**Author's Note:**

> This fic mentions things that happened in _Lyrium Burn_ and _Unspoken_ , but missing the references won't ruin it so you can jump in here without feeling out of your depth if you're not reading the whole series. It also references _Remains_ , but if you've played the DA2 Quest _All That Remains_ , then you know what happens in that one.
> 
> This fic contains explicit sex, consensual kink, and mild references to Leandra's death.

_“It’s been a little while since we had a night like this. For just us.”_

Hawke’s voice was a hot, deep echo in Anders’ mind as they walked back through Hightown. _Walked_ might not have been accurate – Anders marched, his breath rough and one hand balled tightly in the back of Hawke’s shirt as he hauled him along beside him. Hawke had _planned_ this and Anders knew it, had invited him out to dinner innocently enough but once they were seated in a dimly lit corner and Hawke’s thigh was pressed against his, his breath was hot against his neck and his hand was slipping under his shirt to dig blunt nails into Anders’ hip – well, Anders had never rushed through a meal so fast in his life. The thin, loose shirt he wore did little to hinder Hawke’s wandering hands and the wine had made Hawke bold. By the end of the evening his hand had been working Anders’ cock through his trousers and he was pressed so close to his side that Anders had half expected Hawke to pull him into his lap. Maker help him, he’d have let him.

But Anders was getting the impression Hawke didn’t want to be merely _let._ There had been a challenge in his eyes as he’d breathed against Anders’ ear, whispering that he’d arranged for the estate to be empty when they returned, his palm grinding against Anders’ hardness. He wasn’t trying to seduce him – he was trying to frustrate him, wind him up until he snapped. Anders smirked as they reached the door to the estate and he drove Hawke forward, moving his fist from his back to the back of his neck to pin him face-first against the wood and grind roughly against him in the shadows.

“If this isn’t what you want tonight, say so,” he growled against Hawke’s neck, and bit down hard. Hawke groaned and arched, breathing heavily as Anders reached around his body and ran his fingers over the rigid outline of Hawke’s cock.

“It is.”

Hawke wasn’t submissive often – in the month since Leandra’s death he’d needed this from time to time, and Anders had found himself surprisingly eager to oblige. He’d never disliked dominance, but it wasn’t what he preferred, and it had certainly never done this to him – leaving him flushed and panting as Hawke hurried to unlock the door. Hawke was the kind of man people broke rules for, and Anders realised he shouldn’t have been surprised that his own desires forgot themselves in his presence.

Anders resisted the urge to push Hawke to his knees in the hallway – there was no one to interrupt them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to rush this. He released him with a shove, a rough command of _upstairs,_ and dropped his hand to slap Hawke’s ass as they headed for the stairs. Hawke turned to grin over his shoulder, then spun and walked backwards as Anders stalked after him.

“Upstairs?” Hawke asked, raising an eyebrow. He splayed his hands on his waist, moved them up to his chest, locking eyes with Anders as he began to unbutton the dark red shirt he wore. “How unimaginative. For a minute I thought you were going to fuck me against the door. Make all of Hightown see how much I love your cock.” He tugged his shirt off over his head, and the moment it was off him Anders lunged forward, his fingers digging into Hawke’s hips as he guided him backwards up the stairs.

“They don’t need to see,” he said. “They’re going to _hear._ I’m going to make you scream your throat raw tonight, love.”

Hawke groaned, and they both almost fell as his foot caught on the step behind. Anders pulled his head down and kissed him hard, a rough press of lips as Hawke grabbed at him, only to be batted away. Anders gripped Hawke’s wrists firmly, guiding him backwards until they reached the landing and he could push him up against the nearest wall and moan into his mouth.

“You look so good tonight.” Hawke gasped for breath as Anders bit and sucked his way down his neck. “I wanted you – every second we were out I thought of getting down on my knees and letting you – ngh – fuck my mouth under the table.”

“Might have been a little indiscreet,” Anders said with a smile against Hawke’s skin, followed by a vicious bite that he knew would leave tooth-shaped bruises in Hawke’s flesh.

“I don’t care.” Anders slipped his thigh between Hawke’s legs and Hawke whined and thrust against it urgently. “I don’t _fucking care._ They want to…” his breath caught as Anders’ nails dragged over his chest, catching his nipple. “To call me an Amell. I’m an apostate’s son, an apostate’s brother and…” Hawke rolled his hips against Anders’, gripping his ass hard as they moved together. “I’m an apostate’s lover.” He let his head fall back against the wall panting as Anders rolled his nipple between his fingertips. “I’m not one of them. I don’t _want_ to be. Maybe if they – _Maker, Anders_ – if they saw me on my knees in the street with your cock shoved down my throat, they’d stop.”

“Mm.” Anders grabbed Hawke’s wrists again and pinned them above his head. Hawke let him – he knew it and Hawke knew it, he’d never match his upper body strength – but the illusion was enough, and Hawke groaned and bit his lip. “I don’t know, Hightown loves a scandal.”

He wondered if he should try to get Hawke to talk more – Hawke didn’t really _do_ deep conversation about the things that bothered him, and it was an impulse Anders recognised, one he’d hidden behind himself once. But things were still too raw, too painful – Hawke was overwhelmed by how much had changed in the wake of Leandra’s death. When he was ready, Anders would be there. For now, he could help him stop thinking – at least for a little while.

Anders kissed him roughly, sucking on Hawke’s lower lip until he groaned, then biting it sharply before pressing forward and forcing Hawke’s mouth open. They kissed deeply, desperately, moans muffled by each other’s lips. Anders’ every breath was a harsh pant, and Hawke was beautifully flushed by the time he pulled back, lips swollen and wet, eyes wide and dark. Anders pulled himself up straight – what he lacked in bulk he made up for in height – and grabbed a fistful of Hawke’s silky dark hair. He twisted hard, and Hawke whimpered and bent into his touch.

“Maybe I should have bent you over the table instead,” Anders said. He turned, dragging Hawke behind him until they reached the parapet overlooking the entrance hall. “You want a real scandal? How about a good –“ he shoved Hawke up against the parapet, the stone biting into his thighs. “Hard –“ another twist in his hair and Hawke was bent forward with a sharp, panicked gasp as he was forced to look down at the long drop below. “Spanking.” Anders’ last word was punctuated with a hard slap to Hawke’s ass.

Hawke moaned eagerly, and his hands clenched tightly against the carved railing as Anders reluctantly released his hair to tug roughly at his clothing. Stitches popped as he dragged trousers and underclothes together down over Hawke’s hips leaving him bare. His cock hung hard and heavy between his legs, and Anders couldn’t resist reaching down to stroke it briefly, fingertips dampening as they swept over the head.

Anders smirked at Hawke’s needy gasp and the stuttering jerk of his hips as he withdrew his hand. He traced circles on the back of Hawke’s thighs, his own breath catching as he felt the shudder in the tense muscles. Hawke had teased him mercilessly, but he was no less desperate, panting helplessly as Anders worked his way up to the curve of his ass.

He sunk his fingertips into the firm muscle, kneading roughly and spreading him to expose his tight entrance. Hawke keened as Anders trailed his fingers down the cleft of his ass, teased for a moment and withdrew as Anders took a step back. Hawke remained in place, his ass thrust up with his cock twitching between his spread thighs, knuckles whitening where he gripped the parapet. Anders could see the tension in every line of muscle, could hear it in the rasp of Hawke’s breath. He stepped in close again and gathered Hawke’s hair in his hand again, his touch was gentle, fingers caressing Hawke’s scalp as he balled his hand into a tight fist. He rested his right hand on Hawke’s hip, and leaned forward to kiss over the ridge of his spine.

Hawke didn’t sense the warning in his gentle touches or the smirk against his skin, and Anders gave him no time to prepare. He yanked his head back, forcing his back to arch and breath to tighten. At the same moment, he pulled his hand back, and as Hawke gasped sharply, Anders brought his palm down with a stinging crack.

“This is for teasing,” he snarled, twisting his fingers in Hawke’s hair. Another sharp slap combined with a vicious tug, and Hawke’s swollen lips parted with a moan. “For every – fucking – second,” a blow punctuating every word, “that I couldn’t – have my hands – on you.”

Hawke twisted in his grip, knees trembling as he tried to push himself back from the edge and shrink away from Anders all at once.

“You’re going to make up for it,” Anders said roughly, pausing, but not letting up the pressure on Hawke’s scalp even for a moment. He twisted until Hawke whimpered, pulling him back until his back could arch no further, straining beautifully with his head tilted back. There was a hint of tears on his thick, dark lashes, his cheeks were flushed and his lips parted loosely. “What do you think?” Another twist and a ringing slap across Hawke’s thigh that made him cry out sharply. “When I’m done here, I’m going fuck you until you can’t _walk._ You’re going to be bruised, spent, and dripping with come when I’m done with you.”

“Oh Maker, Anders _please_.” Hawke’s voice cracked. Anders could feel how much he needed this, how desperate he must have been for days, just waiting for his chance. Anders couldn’t resist bending forward to press a kiss to Hawke’s temple, breathing in the scent of his sweat and feeling the brush of his hair against his face.

“Good,” he murmured softly.

The next blow – sharp contrast to the moment of gentleness – shocked Hawke enough that tears finally spilled. His mouth hung open, lips connected by a strand of drool as he choked on a sob and wetness streaked his face. Anders stayed hunched over his body, and trailed kisses along Hawke’s hairline, the shell of his ear, the back of his neck as he hit him again. Another slap and Hawke gasped his name, another, and another, and he was pushed to begging.

“Please, Anders – fuck me, please.”

“You can do better than that.” Anders’ voice was soft, encouraging, but the sharp tug in Hawke’s hair was far from gentle and the next strike of Anders’ hand came down with full force. Hawke whimpered and bit his lip, eyes rolling back to try to plead with Anders with his gaze.

“I need you,” Hawke gasped. “I need –“ his voice broke as Anders slapped him again, and Anders groaned with him as he felt the heat in Hawke’s inflamed skin. “– your cock, please, I need it in me.”

“Good,” Anders purred.

“Just – fuck me until I can’t think,” he begged, and there was something in his voice that went beyond their game, beyond anything he could admit at any other time. Anders pressed his face into Hawke’s hair and breathed in the familiar scent of him, stilling his hand to grip his hip firmly, grounding himself against the comforting bulk of Hawke’s body.

“I will.”

Anders stepped back, and with a twist of his hand he had spun Hawke around and driven to his knees on the carpet. He released him, and Hawke sagged forward onto all fours with a shaky gasp. Anders felt pride rise in his chest and arousal coil down his spine as he looked at Hawke’s ass, flushed dark red and showing the blurred shape of Anders’ hand in places. His own cock was aching; there was satisfaction in drawing this out, but he didn’t want to wait much longer.

“Crawl,” he ordered.

Hawke obeyed, following Anders into the bedroom. He knelt beside the bed, face upturned. Anders’ breath caught at the sight of him – eager and submissive, hair tousled and broad chest heaving with every rough breath. Anders stood over him, taking in the sight of his nude body, his thick cock jutting up between his muscular thighs, the quick dart of his tongue running over his bruised lips.

Anders seized Hawke’s hair and pulled up sharply. Hawke let Anders manhandle him onto the bed, forcing him face down with his ass draped invitingly over the edge of the mattress. Hawke groaned and thrust against the sheets, his voice muffled as Anders pushed his head down hard with a snarl.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered. “And don’t move.”

Hawke gripped the sheets in his fists and widened his stance. Anders smiled and ran his hand over the reddened flesh, and Hawke groaned faintly at his touch. He summoned his magic and cooled Hawke’s skin, letting frost coat his fingertips as they trailed over the forming bruises. Hawke moaned loudly and rolled his hips. Anders’ grip shifted, he called on his magic, and the kiss of frost became a sharp bite as he squeezed hard and forced the chill into Hawke’s skin.

“Still,” he said, and Hawke nodded.

Hawke remained in place as Anders retrieved a bottle of oil from the draw beside the bed. He tossed it down beside him and began to loosen the laces at the neckline of his shirt, letting it fall open to allow cool air to play across his sweat-dampened skin. He rolled the sleeves up to the elbow – he could have undressed, forcing Hawke to listen face-down and unable to look at his body, but he liked the power of this and knew Hawke did too. Anders stroked himself through his trousers, biting his lip as he raked his gaze over Hawke’s exposed form. He was braced on the balls of his feet, legs straight and splayed wide. His thighs were held tense, his ass spread, and the muscles in his shoulders rippled with every breath as his fists curled tightly in the sheets.

Anders coated one finger in oil and slid it into Hawke’s tight entrance. He was slow, steady, working it into him gently and then setting an agonizingly slow pace as he rocked his hand against Hawke’s body. Hawke moaned, taking shuddering breaths as he loosened rapidly around it. Anders let his right hand wander over his back, down to squeeze his ass and caress his straining thigh, then thrust another finger into him.

He was less gentle now. With every thrust he drew his fingers almost out of Hawke’s slick hole, then sheathed them in him fully, crooking them until Hawke cried out and twitched against his hand. Oil dripped over his wrist and trickled down Hawke’s thigh, and before long Anders could feel he was ready to take a third finger.

He slid his right hand up to grip the back of Hawke’s neck, holding him down as he began to pound his fingers into him. They didn’t do this often – Anders preferred being fucked, and Hawke was more than happy to give him what he wanted. But there was something exciting about a change of pace. Anders loved the sounds Hawke made when he was being stretched like this, tight around his fingers and writhing against the bed. He knew exactly how it felt, had been teased and spread under Hawke’s hands so many times and could call to mind the sensations Hawke’s skilled fingers wrung from his body. Being able to give Hawke the same – _Maker,_ it was hot, and his cock strained at the thought.

The wet sounds of his fingers and the way Hawke moaned, loud and unrestrained against the sheets, were more than Anders could take. He withdrew his fingers from Hawke to hurriedly unfasten his trousers and free his throbbing cock, and rocked forward to grind it between his firm cheeks.

“You ready?”

“Yes,” Hawke groaned.

“Spread your arse for me,” he panted, straightening up with most of his weight pressing down on Hawke’s neck.

Hawke’s shoulders shifted and he reached back, gripping his ass, fingers digging into the bruised flesh. Anders gave an appreciative moan at the sight, Hawke’s loosened entrance slick with oil and framed by the hand-shaped bruises across his ass. Anders oiled his cock, gripped the base and pressed forward with a growl, enjoying the loud groan Hawke gave in response. With one hard thrust he was inside him, engulfed in the slick velvet grip of Hawke’s body.

He stilled for a moment, panting as he adjusted to the intense sensations flooding through his body. Every beat of his heart made his cock throb, and white-hot pleasure was coiling through his nerves, racing down his spine, and pooling at the base of his shaft. As his mind cleared he realised Hawke was begging, his words muffled against the bed, and Anders slid his right hand into his hair to pull his head back and hear him.

“– fucking tease, _move.”_

“You’re in no position to make demands.” Anders’ voice gave away how eager he was, but he remained still for a moment longer, knowing how Hawke needed him to be the one to keep control.

“I…” Hawke groaned. “Please, Anders.”

“You’ve been so good,” Anders gasped, and he shoved Hawke’s face back down into the crumpled sheets as he began to move.

He knew how Hawke wanted it – and after the evening of Hawke’s teasing touches, he wanted – needed – the same. He thrust hard and fast, giving Hawke no time to adjust. His hips jerked as he rammed his cock deep inside him, looking down to watch his length plunge into the stretched hole. Hawke moaned desperately against the bed, his voice muffled but not enough to stop Anders hearing the shakiness in it, the raw need.

Anders released Hawke’s hair and gripped his hips two-handed, tugging him back until Hawke’s hips were over empty air, cock twitching against nothing as Anders continued to slam into him. Hawke’s hands moved to grip the sheets again and Anders pulled his hips up sharply with every firm, downward thrust. Each impact made Hawke whimper at this angle, and Anders wasn’t sure if it was the thickness of the cock in his ass or the slap of skin against Hawke’s bruised flesh but either way, those high-pitched cries were unravelling him. Anders’ breath shook – Hawke sounded so good when he came undone like this, when he let himself submit. Anders had seen it countless times through Justice’s eyes, but there was something special in Hawke coming apart under him. And there were things he could do that Justice could not.

Anders let his right hand fall to his side and summoned a handful of warm, gentle sparks. Justice could send raw power arcing through Hawke’s flesh, but there was power in pleasure too, and Anders was far more skilled in this type of magic. Creation magic and electricity mingled into a tingling hum around his skin. Anders tightened his grip on Hawke’s hip and reached out his glowing, sparking fingers and trailed them up his spine.

The effect was instant – Hawke screamed and arched, his ass tightening around Anders’ cock as his entire body strained. Anders groaned and sped up his thrusts, grinding the head of his cock against the sensitive spot inside Hawke’s body that made him squirm and moan and pant Anders’ name against the sheets. Anders pressed his palm against his back and raked his nails over tanned skin – they left raised red streaks that healed under the shower of sparks, and then Anders surged forward and wrapped his magic fingers around Hawke’s throat.

He pulled back gently, and Hawke braced his hands against the bed and pushed up to allow Anders to grip him by the neck as he pounded into him. Hawke’s drool-slick lips hung open, his eyes fluttered shut, and his moans became incoherent, broken words as Anders’ cock thrust into him again and again. Anders squeezed and Hawke cried out roughly, another gentle clench of his hand around Hawke’s neck and a firm, deep thrust, and Hawke was left broken, trembling in Anders’ grasp as his cock pulsed and he spilled across the sheet.

Anders didn’t slow his thrusts for a moment. His left hand shot up to grip a fistful of Hawke’s hair, holding him tightly in place as he shifted his hand full of sparks down to wrap around Hawke’s oversensitive cock. That earned him a real scream, Hawke’s voice cracking as he shuddered and bucked. Anders hauled Hawke upright, letting him shift one knee onto the bed to support himself as Anders fucked him. His grip was iron in Hawke’s hair, his slow, firm strokes of his cock utterly without mercy, and his hips snapped sharply against his muscular ass.

“Come for me,” he snarled. “Now. Again.”

“I – _Maker_ , I can’t,” Hawke said, his voice breaking into a whimper as Anders pushed yet more magic from his fingertips.

“You’re so hard for me,” said Anders, and twisted his fingers sharply in Hawke’s hair to hear that beautiful whimper again. “And you’re _shaking._ You need this.”

“It’s too soon.”

Anders felt for his magic, shifting the balance until the soothing hum of creation faded almost to nothing, allowing the sharp crack of electricity to play against Hawke’s flesh. Hawke’s entire body went taut, a ragged cry tearing loose from his throat, and he spasmed on Anders’ cock as his come spilled hot and wet over Anders’ fingers.

“That’s it, love,” he purred.

Hawke’s thighs were trembling, and his rough gasps of pleasure hovered on the edge off sobs as his cock twitched against Anders’ palm. Anders brought his fingers to Hawke’s lips and he took them eagerly, moaning against his skin as his tongue lapped them clean. Anders’ own pleasure was building rapidly, coiled tight and growing with every flicker of Hawke’s tongue against his fingers, and with every thrust into the tight heat of his ass.

“You’re amazing like this,” he said, hearing the catch in his voice as Hawke’s teeth grazed his knuckles. “The sounds you make, the way you take my cock.” Hawke groaned around his fingers and Anders began to thrust them rhythmically. “You’re going to come for me again.” Hawke whined and Anders grinned before leaning forward to nip Hawke’s ear sharply. “And you’re going to scream my name when you do.”

Hawke’s strangled moan around his fingers felt as good as it sounded, a hum against his skin that sent heat racing through him. He reluctantly released Hawke’s hair and gave him the freedom to move, and Hawke groaned and sucked eagerly at his thrusting fingers as Anders let his left hand drop and wrap around Hawke’s cock. He summoned his magic again – no gentleness, no restraint. He poured enough creation magic into Hawke’s cock to leave it throbbing in his grip, then summoned heat and sparks to his fingers and pumped his fist around the rigid flesh.

Hawke squirmed and whimpered, eyes falling shut as Anders overwhelmed him in raw sensation. The sight of Hawke like this – well-fucked and dazed with lust – was dragging Anders ever closer to his peak but he would outlast him, he would leave him more than satisfied. He let his head drop against Hawke’s shoulder and bit down hard as he keened sharply, his own knees trembling as the flush of heat in his skin built, the tension in his belly sunk lower and urged him on, and his thrusts sped up, out of his control.

Hawke’s chest heaved, his breath hitched, and the swipe of his tongue against Anders’ fingers lost its rhythm. Anders let his fingers slide from between Hawke’s lips, drool trailing across his cheek as he shifted his grip to hold his jaw. He missed the wet heat, but he didn’t want Hawke’s voice stifled. His hand worked Hawke’s cock, heat and sparks building around his fingers as Hawke whimpered brokenly in his arms. Anders sunk his teeth deeper into his shoulder and Hawke cried out sharply, urgently, hips bucking as he thrust into Anders’ hand.

“Yes–“ he broke off with another wordless shout, trembling violently as Anders pounded into him. “Anders, oh – Anders…”

Anders sucked firmly on the bruised flesh, ran his thumb over the leaking head of Hawke’s cock, buried his own length deep in the tight heat of his ass – and Hawke screamed. He was beautifully unrestrained, his voice hoarse as he shattered, quivered, utterly spent as he sagged against Anders’ arm and brought them both tumbling forward onto the bed.

“Oh, fuck,” Anders breathed.

He slipped his hand from beneath Hawke’s body and braced it on the bed beside him, tightened his grip in his hair once more and stopped holding back. He let his eyes fall shut, mind still echoing with the desperate way Hawke had groaned his name. He could still hear Hawke’s sharp little whimpers with every thrust, could feel the way his ass tightened around him as he dragged every last spark of pleasure from Hawke’s exhausted body. His thrusts were ragged, uneven, but the slick glide of his cock and the rhythmic slap of sweat-drenched skin on skin was intoxicating.

“Garrett,” he gasped, and his cock pulsed. “ _Maker,_ I’m…”

Words failed him as he came, every thought shattering into sparks behind his eyelids as his cock throbbed and twitched inside Hawke. He could feel himself shaking, hear the harsh grunt that became a shaken moan as he rode out every last wave of pleasure, and he finally collapsed against Hawke’s sweat-soaked back with a whimper.

For a moment, they were both too exhausted to move, but eventually Hawke shifted beneath him and Anders rolled to the side. He stilled Hawke’s movement with his hand on his lower back, and gently nudged his legs apart to watch the way his come seeped down to trickle over Hawke’s thighs. Anders groaned, and slipped his fingers into the cleft of Hawke’s ass to toy with his entrance, hot and slick and so, so, sensitive, making Hawke squirm against the bed and pant harshly.

“You’re insatiable.”

“I didn’t come _three times,_ ” Anders said with a chuckle. “I’m not expecting anything though – I think I broke you.”

“Mm,” Hawke agreed. He rolled over and slung one heavy arm Around Anders’ waist. “You’re sure this is all right?”

“Better than all right.” Anders curled against Hawke’s chest, listening to the rapid pounding of his heart.

“Justice watch that?” Hawke pulled him in close – his grip was a little too tight, not uncomfortable, but Anders couldn’t help worrying at the way Hawke clung to him. “He okay with this too?”

“Love,” Anders said gently. “I’ve seen Justice push you _much_ harder than that. You know we both love this.” He wriggled around until his face was pressed against Hawke’s neck, and left a series of soft kisses from shoulder to ear. “What’re you worried about?”

“I’m a fucking mess,” Hawke admitted – and it hurt Anders’ heart to hear it, but it was a relief too. Finally. “I don’t want everything to change because of me.”

“Change isn’t bad.” Anders slipped his leg between Hawke’s, pressing himself as close as he could get and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Look at Justice – me finding my dominant side isn’t half as drastic as him becoming absolutely _filthy_ over the space of a couple of weeks.” Anders flinched at the rustling sensation of discomfort in the back of his mind. “Uh – I mean, him discovering the _beauty of mortal intimacy_.”

“Did you get a telling off?” Hawke chuckled.

“Little bit.”

“I’m glad you’re talking. Or – you know – the equivalent. Maker, I can’t believe a few months ago we both thought he _hated_ me, and he barely communicated with you at all.”

“It’s incredible.” Anders smiled against Hawke’s skin, and felt Justice flood his mind with comforting warmth. “We’ve got you to thank for it – it helps having someone outside our head to straighten things out.”

“You did all the work.” Hawke chuckled again and ruffled Anders’ hair. “I just provided the irresistibly sexy motivation.”

Anders snorted with laughter, and Hawke’s grip loosened a little into a more natural embrace. It seemed lately that most conversations went like this – Hawke could only grieve in fragments, chipping away at his pain until it was all eroded away. It would take time, but Hawke was healing.

“We’re still working on it,” said Anders. “We want to try to get back into the Fade together, if we can. There are just so many variables – the quantity of lyrium – licking it off your chest wasn’t exactly a precise way of measuring it – how long we wait after taking it before falling asleep, what exactly triggers the splitting of our minds… and we don’t want to take it too often.”

“No, can’t imagine that’d be safe.”

“I think we’re getting closer. Last time we were both in the Fade, but not separated. Justice took over and I was dragged along for the ride. I think we were too deep – or I wasn’t strong enough, I don’t know.” Anders sighed. “The problem is, we’re variables too. And we – well, vary.”

“You’ll get there.” Hawke stroked his hair. “The two of you together? I wouldn’t want to be anything standing in your way. The Fade won’t know what hit it.”

“I think we might have given a few demons a show last time,” Anders snorted. “Speaking of demons, I was thinking of asking Merrill – no blood magic, obviously, but she tends to have an… unconventional approach to magic.”

“Don’t.”

Hawke’s voice was suddenly sharp, and Anders could feel the tension that flooded back into his muscles. He cursed himself mentally – bringing up blood magic, really? Here, now?

“Shit, love – forget I mentioned it.”

“No I…” Hawke trailed off. “I trust Merrill. I worry about her, but – she’s got a good heart. But right now I just – I see the cuts on her arms and hear her trying to justify it and I – I can’t have that around anyone I love. Not yet.”

“Consider the idea dropped,” said Anders, and he could feel Justice’s agreement. They wanted this – not needed, perhaps – they’d found ways to be close in this world, but to see each other face to face in the Fade again would be a luxury. Luxuries could wait. Hawke needed to know they were safe.

“Thank you,” Hawke said softly, pulling Anders’ head back gently and leaning in to kiss him. The kiss was tender at first, reassuring them both that they were safe, and together, and however hard the last month had been or the months to come would be, they would not leave each other’s side. But Anders’ body responded to Hawke’s touch, and Hawke responded to the swelling hardness grinding against his thigh, and before long soft kisses had become rough and passionate. Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies and Hawke groaned desperately against Anders’ lips.

“No more worrying about Justice,” Anders said, pushing Hawke down onto his back with a playful grin. “You’ll see him tomorrow. But tonight is just for us.”


	2. Justice/Hawke

“So, it is just us?”

Hawke looked up from his chair, raking his eyes appreciatively over Justice’s form. Anders had returned home from the clinic an hour before and gone straight upstairs to bathe and change, leaving Hawke in the library to wait – and although Hawke would never admit to being an impatient man, he couldn’t hide the catch in his breath as he took in the view. Justice’s hair was damp, darkened by the water and hanging in loose waves around his face. He had dressed in close fitting black trousers, but had gone without a shirt and Hawke had an unrestricted view of the play of blue light over his wiry muscles.

“Bodahn is going to think I’m up to something,” Hawke smirked, setting his book aside. “But, yes, he and Sandal are visiting a friend of theirs in Lowtown, and Orana is spending another evening with Fenris.”

Justice approached – he had become so confident so fast, and the lithe twist of his waist and the swing in his hips made Hawke’s breath catch. Justice stood in front of him for a moment, his eyes raking over Hawke’s body and lingering on his lips, then he leaned in close with his hands braced on either side of the armchair.

“I have craved this,” he said, a rumble building in his throat. “No interruptions. No complications.” He lowered himself, lips less than an inch from Hawke’s own, the lyrium-scent of his breath hot against his cheek. “I would like to hear you scream, as you did for Anders last night.”

“Mm, you watched that?”

“I did.” Justice supported himself on one hand as the other began to loosen the buttons of Hawke’s shirt, exposing his chest inch by inch as the buttons fell open. “It was a night for the two of you, so I did not intrude. But the image of you impaled on our cock has not left my mind since.”

“Yeah?” Hawke’s breath caught as Justice’s warm, faintly humming fingers parted his shirt and raked through his chest hair.

“I love to watch you – with me, with Anders. Your body fascinates me.” Justice’s touch was gentle as his hand slid up over Hawke’s neck, then his cheek, and he carded his fingers through Hawke’s hair. “It has done since your first night with Anders – although perhaps not in quite the same way. And since I have been allowed to touch – to explore…” He groaned, and tightened his grip to tilt Hawke’s head back. “I can never tire of it. The way you move, the way your skin flushes, the sounds you make and – your mouth.”

Justice kissed him – finally, eagerly – a growl vibrating through his lips as they moved against Hawke’s own. Justice shifted until he was straddling Hawke in the armchair, the wide seat easily fitting Hawke and Justice’s slender legs, and Hawke gripped Justice’s waist as he kissed him back, encouraging his mouth open so he could tug at his lips and tease him with slow sweeps of his tongue.

“My mouth?” Hawke murmured as they broke apart. “What about it?”

“It is…” Justice’s voice shook, and he moved his hands to cup Hawke’s face, fingers tracing reverently over his cheeks. “I cannot describe. When I think of kissing you, of your lips on my cock, the tightness of your throat and- your _tongue.”_ His grip tightened for a moment, and he shifted his grip to run his thumb over Hawke’s lower lip. “The way you lick your lips, the way it feels when I thrust into your mouth.”

Hawke grinned wickedly and swept his tongue over the pad of Justice’s thumb, making him gasp. Justice thrust his thumb between Hawke’s lips in response, and groaned as Hawke nipped at the pad and then drew it into his mouth, teeth grazing over the knuckle. He tasted of lightning and lyrium, with the faint taste of salt and elfroot beneath it that was Anders. Flesh and spirit moved together as Hawke sucked hard, teasing with teeth and tongue until Justice growled and jerked his thumb free and crushed his lips to Hawke’s again.

Justice was more demanding this time – hands roaming over Hawke’s chest, slipping around to knead the muscles of his back and lower to dig into the soft flesh at his waist. His hips rocked, grinding his ass against Hawke’s hardening cock as he moaned against his lips. Hawke shrugged out of his shirt, leaving it crumpled behind him as he slid his hands up Justice’s chest to pinch and roll his nipples in time with the sharp bucks of his hips.

“So,” Hawke groaned, as Justice ducked his head to trail hot, wet kisses down his neck. “You wanted me to scream?” He pinched sharply and Justice groaned, burying his face in Hawke’s shoulder. “Because so far–“ he swirled his fingers gently against the swollen peaks, “you’re the one making all the noise.”

Justice withdrew one hand from Hawke’s side and leaned back, hovering it just above Hawke’s chest. He looked incredible – skin flushed between the blinding blue cracks, lips parted and damp with glowing saliva. His torso twisted with every urgent rock of his hips, and his cock was straining his trousers, the outline clearly visible even without the glow from his skin.

“Do you consent? To magic?”

“Depends.” Hawke smirked and dropped his hands to Justice’s thighs, gripping them firmly and bucking his hips to grind against his ass. “If I say no, what’s plan B?” He held Justice in place, thrusting lazily against him as Justice threw his head back with a groan. “Might be hard to make me scream without your magic fingers – especially…” he slid his hands up Justice’s thighs, kneading the taut muscle before letting one hand slide to the firm bulge between his legs, “if you’re already begging for it.”

“I do not _beg._ ” Justice seized his wrists and pinned them above Hawke’s head on the back of the chair. _That_ was more like it, a feral snarl tugging at his lip as he leaned in close to Hawke. “I do not need magic to have you at my mercy. Do you know what I am, mortal?”

“I _love_ it when you do that,” Hawke smirked. “Go all ancient, all-powerful being on me. It’d be more convincing if you didn’t sound like you were about to come in your trousers though, love.”

Justice kissed him hard, his tongue thrust between Hawke’s lips as his thighs tightened on either side of him. He didn’t grind on him this time, didn’t touch him – he kept Hawke’s wrists pinned above his head and explored his mouth roughly, eagerly. His teeth tugged at Hawke’s lip until he whimpered, he sucked and nipped and crushed their mouths together, groaning against Hawke’s tongue as he deepened the kiss. The sharp, burned metallic taste grew stronger, making Hawke’s teeth ache with the intensity of it and his tongue tingle where it met the otherworldly taste of Justice’s mouth. It was a kiss to make him remember – Justice wore the skin of a man, but he was so much more, his supernatural strength bruising Hawke’s wrists and the taste of the Fade burning his lips. Hawke was left whimpering as he drew back, chest heaving and cock throbbing against Justice’s ass.

“Do it,” Hawke gasped. “The magic – _Maker_ , anything.”

“Are you certain?” Justice rose on his knees, leaving Hawke’s cock robbed of any pressure or friction. “You seemed unwilling.”

“ _Please_.”

“That’s beautiful.” Justice shifted his grip to hold Hawke’s wrists one-handed, and slid the other down onto his chest. Sparks gathered in his palm and raced across Hawke’s skin – his control was improving and the sparks were weak, but even so they snapped and burned and left Hawke straining and whimpering beneath his hand. “Beg for me, mortal.”

“Yes – Justice, _more_ , please.”

Justice’s fingers were wreathed with flickering crackles of power as he skimmed them over Hawke’s chest. Pain blossomed under his fingers – it raced white-hot through Hawke’s nerves and left him shaking, struggling in Justice’s iron grip as instinct made him squirm desperately away from the sharp snaps of agony. It was almost too much, his eyes watered as Justice’s hand slid up to curl around his throat but Hawke couldn’t deny the way his nipples tightened and his cock throbbed and ached between his thighs.

“You are beautiful like this,” Justice growled. His grip tightened on Hawke’s wrists, pressure hard enough to make him whimper, and he lowered himself until he was close enough to brush their lips together again. It was so brief and chaste but it left Hawke shaking, heat flushing across his skin at the suggestion of what Justice could do if he chose. “Desperate, struggling, helpless beneath me and unable to do anything but beg to be touched.”

“Yes,” Hawke moaned. “Yes – touch me, please.”

“Not until I am satisfied.”

Hawke yelped as for a moment, it seemed as if Justice’s full weight was crushing his wrists. Justice leaned forward to shift his body, moving his knees up onto the arms of the chair and leaning forward so the straining outline of his cock was thrust close to Hawke’s face. Justice kept a tight one-handed grip on his wrists, and his other hand grabbed Hawke’s jaw – mercifully without the cloud of sparks – and jerked his face up to look Justice in the eye.

“You will undo the laces with your mouth alone,” Justice growled, and Hawke’s cock twitched at the raw power in his voice.

“And then?” Hawke raised an eyebrow, and Justice’s fingers tightened on his jaw.

“Then you will open your mouth for me to use as I see fit.”

That shot straight to his cock – Justice’s voice was ragged, and his trousers were stretched tight over his rigid length, but he was in complete control. Hawke wanted nothing more than to obey, to submit. His own cock was so hard it hurt, and even the slightest movement sent prickles of pleasure racing through his nerves – but even more than he wanted to be touched, Hawke wanted this. Justice released his jaw and gripped Hawke’s wrists with both hands, and Hawke leaned forward and drew the knotted laces into his mouth, tugging at the loose end with his teeth.

Justice’s breath caught above him and his hips jerked forward. Hawke gave a short huff of laughter – Justice could always take control when he wanted it, but he was still so easy to tease. He was incredibly sensitive, hips twitching sharply as Hawke slipped his tongue into a loosened loop of cord and teased it free. No rush – he could do it quicker than this, quicker perhaps than Justice realised – it was more fun to draw it out, looking up through his lashes as he gradually worked the knot loose.

Finally Justice’s trousers sagged open, and Justice dropped one hand to shove them down around his hips, underclothes and all, panting harshly as he gripped the base of his cock and lined it up against Hawke’s lips. His thighs were trembling – whether from exertion or desire or a little of both, Hawke wasn’t sure – and the head of his cock was slick with pre-come.

“Suck,” he groaned.

“Mm?” Hawke looked up at him, admiring the flat planes of his body, the curves of muscle in his shoulders, and the soft glow of his nipples and swollen, parted lips. Hawke ran his tongue over his own lips slowly, groaning low in his throat as he nipped his lower lip, let it slip loose, and ran his tongue over the indent left by his teeth.

He leaned forward, letting his cheek brush against Justice’s hardness, hot, slick flesh pressed tight against his face. He pressed a kiss to the backs of Justice’s fingers, and trailed his lips lower to brush against his balls, tongue darting out to tease the sensitive flesh.

Justice’s impatient growl cracked as Hawke swept his tongue up quickly, over the circle of his fingers and along the base of his cock, the salty taste of his skin bitter on Hawke’s tongue as he reached the leaking slit and swirled his tongue over the warm, damp flesh. Justice moaned shakily and thrust forward, but Hawke moved with him, giving him no more than the slow, teasing swipes of his tongue.

It was a game they’d played before – one Justice would always win, and Hawke was happy to lose. Justice released his cock to grab a thick handful of Hawke's hair, twisting sharply until his head was tilted back. His neck was straining, his scalp aching, and he parted his lips obediently as he stared up into Justice’s flat blue stare and his thick, throbbing cock was pushed between his lips.

“I told you to suck,” Justice snarled, and his hips jerked forward.

Locked in place, Hawke could only whine around the stiff length, breathing deeply through his nose as he forced himself to relax his throat. He fought the urge to gag as Justice surged forward again, the blunt head of his cock nudging the back of Hawke’s throat. The firm shaft was heavy on his tongue, and his lips were stretched wet and obscene around it as Justice’s grip tightened in his hair and he thrust down, forcing Hawke to take every inch.

Hawke’s muffled cry vibrated against Justice’s cock, earning him a twitch inside the tight, hot grip of his throat and a sharp tug at his hair. Justice’s lips were parted and he panted roughly – sharp, needy growls escaping as he began to move. Hawke’s cock jumped at the sight – the muscles in Justice’s flat belly flexing as he rocked his hips, back arching as he pulled back and tense arms shuddering as he drove back down. He was slow at first – eyes wide and moans becoming loud and shaken as Hawke’s throat worked around him and his mouth watered with each steady thrust. Hawke sucked firmly, cheeks hollowing as he pressed the tip of his tongue up against the spit-slick shaft, and Justice cried out sharply and sped up his thrusts.

Hawke’s chest tightened and Justice seemed to sense it – perhaps seeing something in his face. He rocked back, drawing his cock fully out and smearing a trail of thick drool across Hawke’s cheek. Hawke looked up at him panting, running his tongue over his sore, swollen lips. Justice whimpered at the sight – Hawke could break him without touch and he knew it, Justice was in control but he still knew how to claim a little power when he felt the urge. Justice’s hand slipped from his hair, his fingers following the trail of Hawke’s tongue and toying with his lower lip. He tugged it down and nudged his fingertips between Hawke’s teeth.

“More,” Hawke groaned around his fingers, and Justice gripped his jaw and thrust his full length in again, every inch gliding over Hawke’s tongue as he rocked back and forth with deep, firm thrusts.

Every stroke of his cock forced trickles of drool from between Hawke’s lips. The intrusion into Hawke’s throat left him feeling raw and used in the best way, eyes watering as Justice drove into him. The grip on his jaw was almost painful, the push and pull of Justice’s cock between his lips left them bruised, he was well-fucked and groaning, every deep breath Justice granted him leaving him panting harshly before he eagerly pushed forward and begged for more.

Justice’s grip tightened, fingertips pressing hard enough that Hawke knew he’d be bruised the next day. He didn’t care – loved the thought of Justice leaving his mark on him, along with the blurred handprints on his ass from Anders the night before. He moaned wantonly around the twitching length on his tongue as Justice’s thrusts became shallow and quick, rubbing the leaking head of his cock against Hawke’s tongue.

“This is how I like your mouth best,” Justice groaned, unblinking as he locked eyes with Hawke and his cock twitched against his tongue. “If you could see –there was nothing of this kind in the Fade, I could not have imagined – the heat, the wetness of it – the way your lips darken and glisten as I thrust between them…” he trailed off with a moan, drawing his lip between his teeth as his cock twitched again. Every swipe of Hawke’s tongue over the head left his mouth flooded with the taste of salt – Justice was close, desperately close, holding back and trembling with the effort as his breath became quick and ragged.

“Garrett,” he groaned, breath hitching sharply as Hawke sucked firmly at the tip of his cock. “Ngh, Garrett, _yes._ ”

Hawke moaned eagerly as Justice’s cock throbbed and pulsed against his tongue. Salt and the lyrium taste of the Fade, along with pure, liquid heat flooded his mouth, and all he could do was press his tongue against the twitching head of Justice’s cock and lap at every drop. Justice’s voice became a wordless snarl and he pulled back, cock slipping free of Hawke’s lips, and another splash of come coated Hawke’s chin as Justice smeared the head across his relaxed lower lip.

Hawke swept his tongue over his lip, gathering the smeared, glowing fluid as Justice stared down at him panting harshly. His cock dripped above him, and Hawke let his tongue flicker out to capture another Fade-touched drop under Justice’s approving gaze. He could feel the hot, thick fluid trickling over his cheek and clinging to his lips. He grinned up at Justice, and Justice groaned in response and thrust his still-hard cock between Hawke’s lips again.

His shaft was slick with his own come, the same burned metallic taste as lyrium, with something raw and otherworldly beneath it that made Hawke’s toes curl and cock ache to be touched. Justice drove into Hawke’s throat mercilessly, leaving him choking but moaning eagerly as he took it deep, drool and seed slicking his lips and chin and leaving his beard soaked. Justice trailed his fingers over his damp cheek, smearing the fluids with an eager growl as he held Hawke steady and slid his cock deep, balls pressed against Hawke’s chin as he thrust into the tight grip of his throat.

Hawke’s cock had moved beyond hard, beyond aching. Every sensation in his body seemed to drain low in the pit of his stomach, a hot, tight ball of tension that pooled in the base of his cock and left him throbbing, burning, desperate for any kind of touch. He squirmed as Justice fucked his mouth, his raw, swollen lips throbbing along with his cock as he chased what little friction he could find. Justice’s fingers slid into his hair, neither of them caring about the streaks of come clinging to his skin as he tightened his grip and thrust into Hawke’s mouth with sharp, urgent growls and shaky gasps of his name. Hawke whimpered, and as Justice pulled back to let him breathe he couldn’t help but beg.

“I need to come,” he gasped, chest heaving as he sagged in Justice’s grip. He could feel the heat in his skin, the sweat sheen on his chest and the sticky trails smeared across his face. The thought of how he must look to Justice only made his cock ache even more – he loved the way Justice stripped him down to raw need, fucked and broken and begging for more. “Please, Justice – whatever you want just _please_ , touch me, do something.”

“I will,” Justice moaned, and his own voice was shaking with need as he pressed his cock between Hawke’s slick lips again. “You can give a little more, I know it – you are so, so good. So beautiful. Garrett –“ he broke off with a groan, and began to thrust roughly, raggedly into Hawke’s throat. His breath came in harsh pants, every thrust leaving Hawke’s throat burning and jaw aching, it was almost too much but he wanted more – he needed to be touched but he never wanted this to end.

“You – are – _ours_ ,” Justice ground out, voice shaking, deepening, a low rumble building in his chest as his hips snapped sharply and Hawke gagged on the unsteady thrusts, lips wrapped tightly around the wet, firm length. He moaned in response, and the tightening of his throat and the vibration in his tongue pushed Justice over the edge. He pulled back with a roar, cock slipping from between Hawke’s lips as it twitched and thick strands of glowing come streaked over Hawke’s upturned face.

Justice slid bonelessly into Hawke’s lap, the bruising grip on Hawke’s wrists finally releasing and leaving him to slump gasping in his chair. Justice seemed content to cling to Hawke’s chest panting for a moment, but Hawke could not ignore the desperate, building need. He dropped his hands to Justice’s ass, kneading the firm muscle as he dragged him to grind against his cock.

“Is this all you want?” Justice murmured. He trailed his hands down Hawke’s chest, softly circling his hard nipples and tracing patterns on his sweat-slick skin.

“More,” Hawke gasped, breathless and incoherent as he rolled his head back against the chair and his eyes fluttered closed. “Please, love – I need _more._ ”

Justice slid back off him, dropping to his knees on the floor. Hawke opened his eyes with a groan as he felt Justice’s fingers loosening his trousers – they hooked in his waistband and Justice looked up at him as he tugged trousers and underclothes together down to Hawke’s ankles, leaving him exposed. His cock was flushed and glistening, fluid beading at the tip as Justice wrapped his fingers around the base. Hawke cried out sharply at the firm, faintly humming touch. It was almost enough – after all Justice’s teasing, with the strange, magic-laced taste of him on his tongue, Hawke had been dragged right to the edge. He remained pinned there, whining helplessly as Justice gripped his thighs firmly and forced them apart with a growl.

For a long, terrifying moment, Hawke thought Justice might tease him. He looked up at Hawke, head cocked as he studied the full length of his body, from his thick, relaxed thighs, the slight softness of his belly, up over his muscular chest and shoulders to his flushed, come-streaked face. Justice growled in appreciation and leaned forward, hands sliding up to grip his hips, and took Hawke’s cock in his mouth.

Hawke bit his lip until he tasted blood, a harsh grunt becoming a shuddering cry as Justice’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock. He sucked hard, cheeks hollowing as bright blue light shone through his lashes and lit the tousled curtain of his hair. Hawke slid his fingers into the blond strands, no pressure, he just needed something solid to hold onto as Justice’s quick, clever tongue stroked and teased and flicked over his hardened flesh.

“Oh fuck – oh Maker, Justice – bloody _fuck_ that’s good.” He took a long, shuddering breath, and Justice growled around him and took him deeper, faster, lips and tongue working around him as every long, wet suck dragged him closer and closer towards climax.

Justice’s hands kneaded his hips, dragging him forward to meet the quick descents of his lips. The sight of Justice’s faintly glowing saliva on his skin sent a jolt of pleasure racing across his skin, coiling down his spine and pooling deep in him as he rocked against Justice’s hot, eager mouth.

“I won’t – last, _nngh._ ” Hawke groaned with every thrust, hips bucking up as Justice took him deep and swallowed around him. It was too good, heat and tension coiling inside him, building fast and intense, leaving his thighs shaking and heart pounding.

There was nothing that could draw this out – not with the taste and scent of Justice clinging to his lips, the warm, skilled flicks of his tongue against his shaft, and the low, rumbling moans he was drawing from the spirit. Justice’s hand slipped between his legs, damp fingertips toying with his entrance. They kneaded the ring of muscle, and it was no more than teasing but it felt _so_ good, and Hawke threw back his head, tightened his grip in Justice’s hair and gave a loud, unrestrained moan.

Every breath shook, every muscle tensed – Hawke arched and strained, dragging Justice’s lips down to the base of his cock as it twitched and throbbed. Sharp, blinding heat pulsed through his nerves, his abs clenched, and Justice moaned around him and slid one wet finger into him.

“ _Justice.”_

Hawke’s moan of his name became a loud, shuddering cry as his lips parted, head fell back, and he came hard, thrusting deep into Justice’s eager mouth.

Justice sucked him through the aftershocks, soft, slow strokes of his lips and languid sweeps of tongue that left Hawke shaking. His moans were sharp and urgent as Justice dragged every last moment of pleasure from his oversensitive flesh, then released his cock and withdrew his hand from between his legs. Justice bent to trail kisses along his thigh, and pushed himself up on his knees to kiss his way over Hawke’s hip and onto his stomach.

“I believe that qualified as a scream,” Justice murmured.

“I’m not going to argue.” Hawke shifted in the chair, warm and lazy as the tension drained from his body. “Technical definitions – too much effort. You win. Mm, you’ve _broken_ me. I’m never leaving this chair.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

Hawke quirked an eyebrow – and Justice slid up his body to join him, lanky body curled in Hawke’s lap with his feet dangling over one arm of the chair and his arms wound around Hawke’s chest. Justice often carried himself stiffly, and even now there was always a hint of awkwardness in his movements – but Maker, he was clingy when he wanted to be, wrapping around Hawke like a glowing, man-shaped blanket.

“Your face…” Justice trailed off and tugged Hawke’s discarded shirt from behind his back. Hawke took it with a smirk and wiped his face clean, discarding the shirt on the ground beside them as he pulled Justice in for a kiss.

“You made the mess. No complaining.”

“It was not a complaint.” Justice cupped his jaw and kissed him again – firmer this time. There was no urgency in it, nothing demanding in the slow, teasing flicks of his tongue and the glide of his lips against Hawke’s. But it was deep, intense, and hungry. There was something unspoken in it, and when Justice pulled back Hawke caught a flicker of pain across his face.

“You alright, love?”

“I am better than I was. As are you.” He ran his fingers over Hawke’s face, eyes narrowed as he studied his expression. “But alright? I – am not certain.”

“Yeah.” Hawke sighed, threading his fingers through Justice’s silky hair and pulling him close. “I know what you mean.”

“You do not speak of it.” Justice tucked his face against Hawke’s neck, his stubble rough against his shoulder.

“It’s how I’ve always been.” Hawke kissed the top of his head, grinning as Justice burrowed closer. Of all the things he’d expected when he’d first dared to imagine this, the idea that a Fade spirit would be _cuddly_ had never crossed his mind. “I just need to hide from the world for a little while. We’ve all got to do what works for us. I – have no idea what that’ll look like for you, but you’ll know it when you find it.”

“Being with you, and with Anders. You are all I need.”

“I suppose you don’t have a whole lot of choice there,” Hawke sighed. Justice huddled closer, and Hawke wrapped his arms around the bony, squirming mass of spirit to help him settle. “We need to find you some friends.”

“Anders finds friendship difficult enough. I do not think my presence would help.” Justice paused thoughtfully. “He has been invited to drink with Isabela and Merrill. He is interested in their company, but fears you will not approve of him spending time with a blood mage. I do not approve, neither of these mortals are truly just, but he misses the friendships he had as a Warden and he is tempted although he will not admit it.”

“Maker, love, I don’t mind him _drinking_ with Merrill. I just – I don’t trust her magic. It’s dangerous, and it’s going to get people hurt. She’s willing to risk that for herself and it’s her business, but I don’t want you and Anders getting caught up in it. I don’t think she’s going to summon demons in the Hanged Man.”

“If she does, I will kill them.”

“Well, that sounds like a relaxing night out.” Hawke grinned and twisted to press a kiss to Justice’s temple. “Let me wallow for a little while. Take Anders out somewhere nice.  I know you can’t, you know, glow – but you can prod him out of the clinic, I’ve seen you drag him _in_ there often enough”

“I do not drag.”

“Course not.” Hawke shifted in the chair, twisting until Justice was beside him instead of draped over him. Justice pulled back, watching curiously as Hawke leaned over the arm of the chair and stretched to reach the nearby table.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for – ah, here.” Hawke turned back, and handed Justice a narrow wooden box. Justice took it, turning it curiously in his hands.

“A gift?”

“Yeah – something for you and Anders.” Hawke grinned – it had taken some shopping around and a couple of awkward conversations to find what he’d been looking for, but it had been worth it. “Don’t open it now, open it with him tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’ve got that…” Hawke gestured vaguely, “thing. Transfer of titles, papers to sign, messy and dull. You two should have some fun without me.”

“We will miss you.”

“Mm, I know.” Hawke kissed the frown line on Justice’s brow, nuzzling his hairline until his forehead smoothed. “But I’ve had plenty of your attention for a little while. And trust me – this’ll be a _very_ pleasant distraction.”

Hawke rested his head on Justice’s shoulder, enjoying the play of blue light over his skin and the warmth of the fire against his bare legs. Justice turned the box in his hands, thumb toying with the delicate brass catch, before setting it down beside him and draping his arm across Hawke’s chest.

“Thank you,” he said, curling close to Hawke with their legs entangled. “For the gift, and for the suggestion. It will be good to have a night with Anders – for just the two of us.”


	3. Anders/Justice

“ _TONIGHT. JUST US_.”

Justice had scrawled the note while Anders slept, and left it along with the latched wooden box on the bedside for when he awoke. Anders had been pleased – he always was when Justice attempted to surprise him, however near impossible that was. Justice couldn’t offer what Hawke did – a lover to walk proudly beside, or to kiss impulsively without a care as their friends looked on. So he did what he could, fogging Anders’ thoughts to slip affectionate notes between drafts of his manifesto, or compelling him to buy sweet pastries from the stall in Lowtown that always made his stomach growl. Justice had worried at first that Anders would take it as a theft of his free will – but his chest felt warm and tight in a pleasant way when he understood what Justice had done, and his thoughts spilled bubbles of happiness that burst between them, bringing them closer.

In private, things were easier. They were alone in Hawke’s room, their body splayed out on the bed against the mound of pillows. The fire was roaring in the hearth and Anders had slipped off his shirt and boots in the heat, wearing only loose trousers, his hair pulled up. It was getting longer, and Anders had piled it in a loose knot on the back of his head. They were comfortable despite the heat, speaking both with and without words. Thoughts and memories passed from one to the other; it was intimate, natural – how their partnership should have always been.

“We’re overthinking it,” Anders said. “The process, I mean. The first time we got into the Fade it was an accident – maybe if we just – I don’t know, play around a bit?”

Justice looked at the bottles of lyrium on the bedside table longingly. Their weekly experiments were not enough – not for his craving for the sweet, resonating song of the lyrium, nor for his far deeper longing to walk with Anders in the Fade again. He was no longer sure he missed the Fade – this was home now, with his mortals and his cause. But even with all their progress, there was still an aching loneliness in sharing a mind. He missed _Anders_.

“I’m not saying give up,” Anders said, misinterpreting the mournful pang in their thoughts. “But…” words weren’t sufficient for this. Anders’ mind filled with memories of writing notes, measuring the humming silver-blue metal drop by drop, swallowing it like medicine then lying silently in the dark and willing sleep to claim their minds. Justice felt the emotions it caused – stress, and a creeping sense of pessimism as every failed experiment took them further from that one perfect night – and he understood. Failure weighed heavily on them. They needed this – a night for what they had, instead of mourning what lay out of reach.

He wasn’t sure if it was his mind or Anders’ that made the suggestion, but their eyes were drawn to the wooden box again where it lay beside the lyrium potions. Anders reached for it, sitting up against the pillows as he studied the little brass catch and toyed with it with his thumb.

“If I know Garrett, this is going to be something incredibly inappropriate,” Anders said as he flicked the catch open. “Like that bloody amulet – he means well, try not to – oh. _Oh._ ” His voice faded as the lid fell back. Justice was left equally speechless; this was definitely not more illegal jewellery.

Anders’ mind supplied the words Justice lacked – _toy_ and _dildo_ and _fucking Maker, Garrett –_ but all Justice could see was blue. The toy was made of deep blue glass, smooth and gleaming in the firelight, and it cast tiny spots of colour on the white velvet lining of the box. Justice hummed and fluttered in Anders’ mind, and Anders let him come forward to run his fingertips over the cool surface. A pleased rumble rose in his throat as his skin glided over the slippery texture. He was aware of the purpose of such items – Anders’ mind was eagerly filling in the blanks in his experience, noting how the size and shape was remarkably similar to their own – but for the moment he was captivated by the vivid tones that shifted within it as the firelight flickered, and by the way the surface curved beneath his hand.

“It’s not a piece of art,” Anders said with a breathless little laugh as Justice lifted the toy. But it _was,_ mortals’ views of sex robbed them of these extra pleasures. Anders could only see the function of this, while Justice saw that and more. He tried to find the mental images to explain, to show the beauty in the mortal world that Anders took for granted – but Anders was quicker and more insistent. Justice’s focus melted as his mind was filled with the image of Anders on his knees, body rising and falling as he drove himself down onto the glass toy.

“See,” he said. He closed his eyes so Justice could concentrate better on the images he created, and Justice pressed himself against the thought with a curious rumble. “It’s not just pretty.”

Arousal flared between them as Justice reluctantly dropped the toy on the bed – he wanted more, but he didn’t want to stop running his fingers over the smooth glass. Anders nudged warmly at his mind, and they fell back together against the thick mound of pillows. Anders loosened his trousers and kicked them off, leaving their body naked, beads of sweat lit gold in the firelight. The first pulse of blue flickered across their skin as Justice eased forward – the shifts in control had become almost seamless now, moving easily from one to the other and settling in the space between as eager hands skimmed over their body. Every sensation was shared, echoing between them and deepening into a resonating shimmer of pleasure as they traced the contours of their body and closed their eyes.

 _I want you,_ Justice thought as he filled Anders’ mind with the image of them kissing, naked bodies entwined as he slid his hands over Anders’ body. Scars and hair and soft, silky skin moved under his palms as hot, soft lips crushed against his own. _I love you._

Anders didn’t hear the words, but he felt the warmth, and he responded with both mind and body. The Anders in their imagination hooked one leg over Justice’s hip, and in reality he cupped their cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking teasingly across their lips as the other hand ran up and down their side. His thumb slipped between Justice’s teeth making him groan and nip at the soft pad. Justice ran his tongue over the calloused skin, and lost himself in the fantasy their shared minds created.

Their hand shifted from their hip up to their chest to circle and gently pinch at their nipples. They hardened under the teasing touches, and Justice thought it was Anders who moaned but he couldn’t be quite sure – not with the rush of urgent heat flooding both of their minds. It left the few boundaries that remained between them hazy, but it was definitely Justice who dropped his second hand to join the first and rolled their nipples between his fingers as they panted and arched together. Anders took a little more control, and coated their fingertips in frost that left Justice trembling as the cold nipped at their flushed skin.

He responded in their minds, imagining rolling Anders onto his back, deepening the kiss as they writhed together while their hands mirrored the movements in reality. Frost trailed in the wake of their descending fingers, and together they groped slender thighs and Justice pushed them firmly apart. He panted, dug his nails into their skin, and Anders’ voice broke through in a sudden, keening moan. Justice took one hand and slid it up their body, capturing a nipple and tugging it until Anders cried out again. He loved those sounds – he wanted more. They were sharp and desperate, and echoed with thick, pooling desire in his mind. Justice groaned with him, his voice filled with raw need as he gripped the twisted knot in their hair and pulled – hard.

Anders’ breath came in ragged gasps as he trailed his icy fingers over their skin. Control seemed to shift between the two of them with every breath, every heartbeat, but Anders maintained control of the hand on their thigh as he gathered a cluster of sparks. Justice tugged at their hair, picturing Anders beneath him, head tilted back and the column of his throat stretched for Justice to trace with lips and teeth. Anders’ hand paused beside their cock, the faint hum of his magic the only thing touching them, and Justice’s desire broke him – leaving his mind writhing even as Anders’ control held their body still.

“Please,” Justice moaned, a whimper in his throat and a snarl in his mind as he moved over Anders’ lithe body. Sparks turned to raw heat against his skin and Justice felt Anders’ proud chuckle before he heard it, welling up inside them as the soothing warmth of his fingers trailed over the melting frost and finally wrapped around their cock.

“You like that?” Anders said. He pushed for more control and Justice gave it readily. In their shared thoughts, Anders was pinned beneath him, hair clenched in Justice’s fist as Justice pressed their lips together again. He moaned into the hot, wet mouth as he thrust into his hand. Every stroke left him bucking urgently into Anders’ fist, the images shared between them rippling as shared pleasure fogged their minds.

Justice let himself surrender to Anders’ touch and to his thoughts – and was robbed of his breath with a sudden stream of fantasies. Anders was pinned face-first against the wall in the Hanged Man, in a shadowed corner of the crowded bar with Justice’s hand clamped over his mouth and his teeth sunk into his shoulder. In his mind, Justice took him roughly, grunts muffled against his skin with every thrust. The next second they were in the Chantry – alone for now, but so exposed in the light from the high, arched windows, writhing naked on the floor as Justice took Anders’ stiff length into his mouth and thrust his fingers into his stretched, slick hole. Justice could wait no longer – he needed more than fantasy, more than just Anders’ hand. Anders agreed, and they opened their eyes.

They knelt up on the bed, melting frost mingling with sweat to trickle over their flushed skin. Justice skimmed his glowing hands over their body with a growl of pleasure. Anders’ body was stunning – all taut muscle and just the beginnings of softness on his belly, thanks to Hawke’s care. If he could have separated himself from it he would have worshipped every inch of flesh. He longed to kiss his way up Anders’ long legs, over those narrow hips – to bite at his nipples until he sobbed and begged for more. He dreamed of sucking each elegant finger before turning him over and thrusting into tight, slick heat, nipping and sucking at his slender throat. Anders felt Justice’s desire and returned it – Justice saw himself in Anders’ thoughts, blue-lined skin exposed to his mouth and hands as he knelt at his feet and begged Justice to thrust between his lips. Some things were impossible – but some things were not. Justice reached out, and took up the first bottle of lyrium.

As the stopper fell from the bottle, Justice took full control. He hadn’t meant to, but there was no resentment in Anders’ mind as he stepped back and let him have this. The song coiled loose from the bottle – Justice could sense it in a way that went deeper than hearing, an almost physical presence that swelled and swirled like smoke. It sunk into his skin right down to his bones, it twisted around his soul and tugged at his mind. The song was weakened in its processed state – but even like this, it was still overwhelmingly beautiful. A rumbling growl built in his chest as he rocked back on his knees, bringing the bottle to his lips and inhaling the sharp, metallic scent. The song wrapped around him, tight and high and shimmering, and he tilted back his head and let it flow onto his waiting tongue.

Justice rocked forward with a loud moan, his free hand balling into a fist in the sheets as aching pleasure shot through him. Snapping, tingling cold lined his throat and burned his lips – and the _song_. He shuddered, eyes fluttering closed as it rose and fell around his heart, a high, quivering note that made him feel as if he might shatter. It was unbearable. It was perfect.

A gentle nudge at his mind brought him back to himself. Justice opened his eyes with a low, unsteady groan. Drops of lyrium still hung on his lips, scalding the skin, and as Anders eased forward again their tongue darted out to capture them. Anders moaned along with Justice as they lay back against the pillows, sucking eagerly at his lower lip.

“Let me play,” Anders murmured, and Justice realised he still had full control of their hands, clinging tightly to the lyrium bottle.

He relaxed his grip and watched eagerly as Anders coated his fingers in the opaque metallic liquid, a thick silvery blue sheen clinging to his skin as trickles worked their way over his palm. He could feel the sensation through him – the way it nipped at his nerves and chilled his flesh. Anders and Justice shuddered together, and Anders brought his dripping fingers to their lips.

Justice captured Anders’ fingers, sucking hard as they thrust against his tongue. The lyrium hit his throat and he growled – a feral sound as his upper lip twitched into a snarl. Justice opened his mouth and swept his tongue over Anders’ palm, shared eagerness in their minds as they moved together, lips and tongue and fingers meeting in a lyrium-soaked kiss. Justice’s eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy.

In their minds, they were two bodies not one – lyrium on their tongues as they kissed deeply. It burned and it sang and it drew them closer, the warmth of their breath and the lightning-strike bitterness of the liquid metal mingling on their lips. A single drop slipped from between them, trailing over Justice’s jaw as he moaned and thrust against Anders’ thigh – and in reality their free hand slipped down to wrap around their length. The building coldness of the lyrium left his lips aching, and Justice felt raw heat building in his cock with every stroke. He moaned against Anders’ fingers – his tongue – the line between reality and fantasy blurring as Anders kissed him hard in both. His fingers stroked, thrust and teased, they pinched his lower lip, becoming a playful nip in his mind as Anders’ honey-coloured eyes stared down at him, then withdrew entirely. Anders dipped them into the wide neck of the bottle, and returned coated in the thick, intoxicating metal that left Justice gasping.

The song was in his blood, it was in the prick of tears in his eyes, and the thunder of his heart. Justice was helpless beneath Anders’ hands, lapping at every drop of lyrium as it trickled over his tongue and leaked from between his lips with the rough thrusts of Anders’ fingers. In their mind their kiss grew messy and desperate, lips clashing together, breaking apart to pant and growl and come together again with a groan. Lyrium spilled between them, tracing humming, burning fingers down their throat and trickling over their chest.

Justice was left panting as Anders’ fingers withdrew. He wanted more. He opened his eyes and watched hungrily as Anders coated his fingers again – then felt his intent echo across their minds and bit his lip eagerly in anticipation. Anders’ strokes of his cock were agonizingly slow, and his lyrium-coated hand hovered teasingly just above his skin, the liquid gleaming in the firelight. It formed thick droplets that hung from his fingertips but did not fall, clinging to his skin like a living thing. Justice surged forward, until Anders’ hands were _theirs_ once more, and they pressed their thrumming fingertips against one nipple.

It was cold – intensely cold – and their nipple tightened immediately under the gentle touch. Justice watched breathlessly as their fingers circled the firm peak, and he felt his pleasure mirrored in Anders’ mind as lyrium trails descended over his skin. They moved their hand to the other side, and Anders whimpered as Justice growled and they both arched. The spreading trails of lyrium seemed to tighten against their flesh, it plucked at every nerve, searing against their skin as it slid around their waist. It spilled from between their lips and dripped from their chin to splash against their neck. It did not just sing – it screamed – the song pitching higher, growing louder, sinking claws into Justice’s essence as he writhed beneath it.

Their body strained as they pinched and rolled their nipples one by one, their free hand still teasing their throbbing length. Their minds were melting together, free-flowing as lyrium as they moved as one, desires colliding and mingling. The gleaming blue liquid bound them in a web of raw sensation, and their trailing fingers descended over their sternum and lower, until they reached the darker trail of hair on their belly and something shifted. The final distance between them closed – still two minds, but each engulfed by the other. They were perfectly aligned and for the first time, Anders heard the song.

Justice felt a sob catch in his throat, Anders’ hips bucking wildly as his hand tightened on his shaft. Justice leant him his self-control, holding him on the brink of orgasm and refusing to let him peak – not yet – as Anders begged and shuddered inside him, around him. Justice heard it himself as if for the first time – a howling crystalline gale within Anders’ mind, something no mortal had ever been meant to hear. With their minds still locked, and the echoing wail of the song coiled tight around them, they reached out and picked up the bottle of lyrium, and swallowed every last drop.

It could not last. Justice released Anders’ mind and eased back for a moment, the glow of his body fading and leaving only the vibrant streaks of blue on their skin. Anders let his hands fall from his body, his cock still flushed and glistening, chest heaving, and lyrium tweaking his nerves until they seemed to hum themselves. There were tears streaking his cheeks, and he raised one shaking hand to smooth the loose strands of hair from his face, leaving smears of lyrium behind.

“You hear that every time?” he finally gasped. Justice brushed against his mind in a way Anders understood to mean agreement, and eased forward to take control of one hand. He longed to flood back in, feel the snap and hum of lyrium on his skin, but for now the second hand pleasure was enough. He wanted Anders, and could feel Anders’ need for him in response. He had teased him enough.

There was oil in the bedside drawer. Justice reached out to take it, watching the blue cracks on his hand snake up over his arm to the shoulder as he took Anders’ arm. Anders’ breath quickened in anticipation as Justice slicked his fingers one-handed with practiced ease, then set the bottle down and moved his hand between Anders’ legs.

 _Open,_ he thought, and Anders felt the command although he couldn’t hear it – and he obeyed. Justice looked down over their body, skin lit pale gold, flushed and lyrium-streaked. His own aching desire flooded through Anders, making him gasp – then Justice slipped his hand between his thighs and thrust one slick finger into him and his gasp became a long, loud moan.

There was lyrium on their fingers – traces trapped beneath nails and in the ridges of their knuckles, and Justice felt it shiver over his fingertips as it mingled with the oil. He thrust his finger into Anders steadily, but not quite slowly – burying it deep in the hot, tight clench of his ass as he wrung a stream of beautiful, broken sounds from between his lips. He could feel pleasure building in Anders’ mind, thoughts fragmented in a whirl of heat as he pleaded without words, grinding down against Justice’s hand every time his finger brushed that sensitive place inside him.

Anders’ other hand reached for his cock, and Justice snatched control and dragged it above his head, relishing the frustrated whimper that drew from the mage. There was power in possession, but not the kind either of them craved – Justice concentrated and shifted his essence from within Anders’ hand to around it, a shimmering ghostly outline of fingers interlaced with his. As he slid a second finger into his loosened entrance, Justice pressed down hard with his manifested hand. Anders was pinned beneath him, struggling helplessly as he moaned Justice’s name and pushed himself down against his thrusting fingers.

“Yes – please, Justice, harder,” he said, and his eyes fell shut.

In the darkness of their mind, it was so easy to give him what he asked and more. Justice sped up the thrusts of his fingers, feeling Anders loosen around him, hot and slick and inviting. He could still remember how that tight heat had felt to sink into in the Fade, the way Anders’ eyelids had fluttered and his lips had parted as he drove him down onto his cock, and as it always did the memory made him ache for what they could not easily have. Anders’ urgent need drove him on and dragged him into the present – they had this. Justice focused and showed Anders what he desired – they were back in the Fade, cushioned by ash and straw as Justice pinned Anders’ hands above his head and thrust his fingers into him. His glowing body braced over the writhing, straining mortal, and he bit his way along his jawline before bringing their lips together and kissing him with everything he had.

 _Beg._ It was more than a word within his mind, it was a force of sheer will, and Anders felt it, shivered beneath it, and as Justice crooked his fingers inside him he responded.

“ _Justice._ ” The name was a prayer on his lips; he would not scream for his _Maker_ tonight, Justice was determined. “Fuck, yes, _more_.”

Anders’ mind joined his voice, he showed Justice how he wanted it – three lyrium-coated fingers plunging into him, slamming into him hard enough to jerk his hips up off the bed with every thrust. Justice took the fantasy and made it his, imagining Anders’ sharp, shaken groans and the wet sounds of fingers sliding into him. They were both so deep in the images their shared mind created that Justice was only dimly aware of the feel of glass against his hand as he groped for the bottle, flicked the stopper loose, and let lyrium spill across his flesh.

Anders felt it – the droplets cascaded between Justice’s fingers and splashed across his skin. They hit his belly, his thighs, but it was when they splattered over his cock that he threw back his head and screamed. Justice groaned within his mind, sharing his pleasure but gaining so much more from the way Anders’ mind writhed against his, the way he arched and bucked within the fantasy, pupils blown wide as he spread his legs wider, encouraging Justice’s hand between them.

Justice groped for Anders’ entrance, fingertips finding the loosened ring of muscle and circling it for a moment. He let Anders get used to the feel of lyrium against the sensitive flesh – every touch left him shuddering and moaning, loud and unrestrained. Justice had never thought to ask this of him – not even of Hawke – but Anders’ buried thread of fear was drowned out by a desperate mental plea to feel that thrumming, penetrating burn inside him. In their shared thought space, Justice looked down into his eyes. He gripped Anders’ hand tighter, to bring him closer as much as to pin him down, and sank three fingers into him with a groan.

As Anders screamed, Justice couldn’t help easing forward just a little, flickering blue through Anders’ veins as he rose up into shared sensation. The song of the lyrium coiled and twisted inside him – the freezing burn of it so intense it almost hurt. It seemed to shiver around his fingers as he thrust into their body, every pulse of the lyrium’s sweet song pressing deeper into him. It twisted every nerve, plucked at every thought – it joined their bodies to their minds, making their shared fantasy more real, almost physical as they drowned in thought and sensation together.

Their voices were loud – mingling and alternating, dual-voiced moans as Anders whimpered and Justice growled. Their names fell from each other’s lips – Justice’s roar of _Anders_ accompanied by a crook of his fingers, Anders’ cry of _Justice, please,_ tumbling from him as Justice’s hand eased back.

Justice released Anders’ pinned hand, allowing his essence to be drawn back into Anders’ form as Anders flexed his fingers and then groped beside him to find the glass toy. In their mind it was not glass that his fingers wrapped around – Justice could feel the smooth, cool surface in his mind but for now he pushed that sensation aside, focusing on fantasy instead. Here Anders’ hand was between his legs, slicking his cock with oil and lyrium as he lay sprawled beneath him. The blue glass was beautiful, but Anders was so much more – he was unique. Flushed, panting, streaked in sweat and lyrium. He was so real, so human, and Justice found himself swept forward in desire for him, rising up through layers of sensation and the piercing hum of the lyrium.

He opened his eyes, his full body flickering in blue – everything but his arms. Anders had taken control, effortlessly reversing their roles. He was growing more confident in their time together and it showed, one hand hooking behind his thigh to pull back and spread himself wider, the other lining up the toy against his entrance. Justice’s breath caught at the sight – even mostly obscured as it dropped between his legs, the glimpse of blue glass was striking. The firelight and the glow from his skin were scattered through its curved surface, throwing a deeper shade of blue light across the sheets. The lyrium that streaked it was reflected in the surface, light catching in the oil and liquid metal. Then Anders slid it into him, and Justice’s mind emptied.

It was so much more than he’d expected – lyrium and oil making the surface impossibly smooth and cool as it moved within him. The hardness was new too, unyielding as it stretched and filled him, the blunt head pushing hard against the spot inside him that made him moan Anders’ name and grind against the toy. He felt a heady rush of pride and warmth from Anders’ mind, holding him close as the toy slipped into him down to the base and Anders held it there as Justice wriggled and panted. The song of the lyrium made it tingle and burn, and it coiled up his spine and into his mind. He felt bound by it, helpless under Anders’ hands.

“More,” he growled.

Anders began to thrust. He moved torturously slowly, and Justice panted and snarled every time the toy slid home inside him. It was almost too much, lyrium tugging at his nerves until his toes curled and his back arched, and every slick glide of the rigid glass inside him hit pleasure points he hadn’t known he had. Heat pooled low in his belly and raced across his skin, and Anders’ mind twisted and rocked against his, thoughts bleeding into his as he drew them closer together. His glow was growing brighter, blue blazing almost white as Anders’ hand slid from his leg up his chest to roll a nipple between his fingers.

Anders’ fingers warmed, the subtle hum of magic building between them as the heat radiated over Justice’s skin. Every gentle pinch of his nipple came with another burst of warmth, pulsing in time with the thrusts of the toy inside him. Justice was helpless with pleasure, trembling as he arched into Anders’ touch, sharp cries building louder as a slight shift in angle let him take the dildo deeper. Anders’ fingers teased at the sensitive flesh stretched around the rigid glass, kneading at the ring of muscle as the toy worked inside him. His hand slid from one nipple to the other, and Justice caught the image of frosted fingertips that formed in Anders’ mind only moments before ice manifested in reality, coating the fingers that tweaked and tugged his nipple. He bit down on his lip with a stifled groan, rough, shaky breaths leaving his chest heaving and his head thrown back against the pillows.

The next thrust came with sudden, radiating warmth. Justice gasped, and felt a haze of amusement from Anders’ mind as the next dragged a wordless, broken shout from his throat. Justice turned his face sideways and pressed it into the pillow, biting his lip until he tasted blood. He was overwhelmed under Anders’ clever hands, frost spreading from the wandering fingers on his chest, liquid heat building inside him as magic warmed the glass. The lyrium inside him still left his flesh aching with cold, even as the heated glass plunged into him. He was pushed and pulled in all directions, left writhing on the bed with every breath a shaken gasp of Anders’ name. Justice screwed his eyes closed and let the duelling sensations take him.

“Show me.” It was Anders’ voice, not his – he hadn’t even felt him come forward. “Show me what you want.”

He tried to focus, dimly aware that he was whimpering against the pillows. He clawed for a memory – Anders’ first night in the building that would become his clinic, much of it still filled with abandoned crates and fallen beams. He’d slept on a pile of ragged blankets that night – they’d been alone and frightened but they’d been together, and Justice had coiled tightly around Anders’ mind, trying to show him that he would keep him safe. He thought of how different it could have been if they were two mortals, two beings pressed close together, doors barred tightly against the world.

Anders took control of the fantasy, feeling what Justice needed from him, fuelled by his raw hunger and the heat building between them. He pushed Justice back on the pile of blankets, settled between his thighs, and thrust into him with a ragged moan. His strawberry blond hair fell around his face, lit gold in the flickering candlelight as he gripped Justice’s hips and rocked into him. Each thrust was deep, intense, and Anders fell forward over him with a groan to brace his hand beside Justice’s head and stare down into his eyes as he moved inside him.

Every thrust made the lyrium song build and howl. Anders’ hands shifted to explore his skin – they both focused on the image and it became so real, the firm thrusts of the toy tying fantasy to reality as within his mind, Anders leaned down and kissed him. Justice moaned against his lips – he could _feel_ it, the ghost of pressure against his mouth that could not be but _was._ Anders’ tongue nudged against his lips and he opened his mouth eagerly, pulling Anders close against him and kissing him passionately. He growled and panted into Anders’ mouth, responded eagerly to the urgent sucks and shallow flicks of tongue, and for a moment nothing existed outside of Anders’ comforting weight against his chest and the firm hardness of his length inside him.

Shifts in control were as easy as breathing like this – their minds tangled together, intensely intimate as Justice eased into their hands. They moved together for a moment, Anders’ magic flaring briefly before dissipating around their fingers. They thrust the toy into themselves, pinched and stroked their nipples, and Justice’s unspoken question was met with an eager press of Anders’ mind. He surged into full control.

No more teasing. Justice threw his body roughly onto his stomach, one hand balling into a tight fist in the pillow, the other reaching behind him to resume his thrusts. It felt incredible – he sped up, his urgent groans muffled against the bed as he let himself have this for a moment. Then he pulled back, releasing Anders’ body from his toes to his clenched fist. He felt the eager shudder of Anders’ mind as sensation raced through him, finding himself forced face-down against the bed. Justice remained only as the firm grip on the toy, slamming hard into Anders’ lyrium-slicked ass.

“Oh _Maker,_ Justice…”

Justice rumbled low in their chest – it was not the Maker doing this to Anders, it was all him. He fucked him roughly, driving his hips down against the mattress as Anders’ legs spread wider to take it hard and deep. Justice pushed at the boundary of their skin and manifested himself around Anders’ hands, and Anders whimpered in anticipation of what was to come. One gripped his wrist and twisted it behind his back, raw spirit energy pinning it in place, and the other slid beneath him to stroke his cock as Anders thrust against the sheets.

“Fuck, yes,” Anders groaned. They were working together to hold back their climax, Anders’ thighs trembling with the effort as Justice sank tendrils of control into their mind. Anders’ parted lips left the pillow streaked with his saliva, sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, and he thrust urgently into Justice’s ghostly hand as Justice pounded into him with all his strength.

 _Ache. Burn. Beg._ Justice growled in his thoughts. The words became heavy intent in Anders’ mind, neither spoken nor heard, but felt. They were the white-hot rush of pleasure down his spine, the coiled tension in the base of his shaft and the tightness in his balls, and as his eyes fell closed, they were the imagined ropes biting harshly into his bound wrists.

“Oh – _yes,_ ” Anders moaned, reality and fantasy blurring once more as Justice bent him over one of the cracked wooden crates, knees forced down onto the packed dirt as he gripped Anders’ bound wrists and thrust into him with a snarl. Every thrust left Anders moaning, and Justice squeezed his wrist hard until his voice cracked.

Reality was good – Anders’ pinned against the bed, squirming urgently as Justice’s rough thrusts quickened and his spirit hand squeezed and stroked his straining cock – but fantasy was even better. Justice submerged himself in it, sensations cascading from Anders’ mind as he lost himself in the slap of skin against Anders’ taut ass, the strain in his twisted shoulders as Justice tugged on his bound wrists, and the beautiful pink flush across his cheeks as he twisted his head to look back over his shoulder. _Beautiful,_ Justice groaned within his mind, desperately hoping Anders could feel it. _Mine. Beautiful mortal. Love. Mine._

“Like that – there – Justice, _Justice…_ ” Anders’ voice cracked, a tremor running down his spine. His hips bucked urgently, cock painfully hard and leaking as Justice ran tingling waves of spirit energy over the head. He mouthed wordlessly, breathlessly at the pillow, the cloth damp against his skin as he half-sobbed, half-screamed his release. His cock pulsed, pressed against his taut belly as his come streaked across his flushed skin.

In the breathless, shaken moment that followed, Anders took control. Justice’s spirit hands dissipated as he rolled onto his back, and Justice eased forward to feel Anders’ firm thrusts. There was no teasing this time – no drawing this out. Their cock was still hard and dripping onto their skin, mixed oil and lyrium slid from their loosened hole with every thrust. They were oversensitive, desperate, their voices mingling as Anders pounded into them. Their eyes were open – their imagination gave them possibilities the real world could not, but nothing could quite beat watching Anders’ hand working between his legs.

Justice could feel himself being swept towards his own peak – he panted and growled with every thrust of the warm, slick glass inside him. Anders fucked him with long, deep strokes, pulling the toy almost fully out of him before slamming back in with wet, filthy sounds as it sunk into his flesh. Justice met every thrust with an eager jerk of his hips, rocking up against Anders’ hand. The slick texture of the oiled glass was smooth and hot, the lyrium humming against his skin was smeared and scalding cold – the world had become the crumpled fabric beneath him, the fluids smeared on his skin – all touch and temperature and raw, overwhelming pleasure.

Anders reached out and took up the second bottle of lyrium, knocked the cork loose with his thumb, and poured a thick, gleaming pool of it into his palm. Justice whined at the sensation – he didn’t know if he could take much more, but Anders’ felt the limits in his mind and knew just how hard Justice wanted them pushed. He brought his fingers to their shared lips, dragged their minds close together, and let a steady stream of lyrium pour down over their tongue.

Justice roared in unrestrained pleasure as the new wave of sensation hit. His eyes watered, his toes curled, and he shuddered as he felt the splash of lyrium against his cheek. It snapped and sang and screamed into his nerves, and when Anders’ dripping fingers sank into his mouth he couldn’t resist nipping sharply at the knuckles before sucking hard at the shimmering blue liquid.

“More,” he gasped around his fingers, lapping at the descending droplets. “Love you – more, please.”

Anders’ affection curled tight around him, holding him close as he whimpered desperately. Anders’ fingers stayed in place, and Justice drew them deep to quest with his tongue for any remaining trace of lyrium. He felt Anders’ pleasure, it reflected in his own, echoed back to Anders’ with Justice’s desire. It built and peaked between them as he sucked and nipped at the elegant fingers, his tongue tracing patterns against Anders’ sensitive pads until he lost control and thrust urgently against Justice’s tongue, thumb braced on his jaw to hold him steady.

It was more than he could bear – the toy plunging deep inside him, the snap and sear of lyrium on his aching cock, Anders’ unsteady thrusts into his mouth. The lyrium on their skin felt as if it was tightening around them, a connected web of raw, otherworldly power, clawing at them like a living thing as it called to the Fade, to the part of Justice that _was_ the Fade, connecting them across the veil. The song pitched higher, chiming and rippling in their shared mind as Anders’ voice rose in their shared throat to moan Justice’s name. With shaking fingers, Anders picked up the remains of the lyrium, and upended the bottle over their mouth. Justice held the mouthful of lyrium, let Anders’ feel the building of the song with him, the bitter copper flavour and the ancient power beneath it. Anders more than heard – more than tasted – he understood. As his fingers thrust between their lips again, forcing lyrium to cascade over their chin and over their throat, it was that shared knowledge, the connection, that finally pushed Justice over the edge.

He screamed, lyrium flowing freely over his lower lip as he arched like a bow. His thighs trembled as he reflexively swallowed, and the first heavy splash of come hit his heated skin. Lyrium poured down his throat as Justice sank his teeth into Anders’ fingers, muffled groans and desperate, shaken cries against his hand as his cock pulsed again and he spilled over his belly. Glowing fluid mingled with the smeared lyrium as he shook, gasped, and finally slumped back against the pillows with a groan of Anders’ name.

It took some time to get their breath back, their body left trembling as Anders – Justice – he could no longer tell – withdrew the toy. They lay together for a while, basking in the afterglow as their thoughts twisted around each other – but as always, Justice eventually could not bear the cooling fluids on his skin or the stickiness of the sweat-drenched sheets. They bathed, changed the sheets, and by the time Hawke returned late that night Anders was hovering on the edge of sleep.

“Do not disturb him,” Justice murmured as Hawke stripped off and slid into bed behind them. They were coexisting in their skin, Anders’ peaceful mind was easier to align with, and Justice enjoyed the intimacy of it. “He is exhausted.”

“Mm, I bet he is.” Hawke wrapped an arm around their waist and kissed their neck, just where it joined the shoulder, the spot he knew made Anders shiver and Justice growl contentedly. “You opened my present?”

“We did.”

“You smell like lyrium.” Hawke chuckled and pulled him closer.

“We do.”

“Your evening sounds a lot more fun than mine.”

“You found your tasks unpleasant?” Justice wriggled back, feeling Anders’ mind stir with concern and gently encouraging him deeper. He could look after Hawke – Anders needed his rest.

“Could have been worse.” Hawke nuzzled at his neck with a sigh. “It’s all dealt with. The last of it. She’s – really gone. It’s just us, now.”

“Are you all right?” Justice mentally cursed himself for the foolish question, but Hawke didn’t seem to take offence. He paused for a moment, then shook his head against Justice’s shoulder.

“No,” he said. “But I think – I think I’m going to be.”

They turned and took Hawke into their arms, letting him be the one to burrow against their chest, wrapped up tight in them as he breathed in their scent and splayed his hands against their back, fingertips tracing remembered patterns of freckles. Anders kept himself awake until they heard Hawke’s breathing slow and felt his shoulders relax – he was deeply asleep, and finally, Anders’ mind slipped into the Fade.

There was a sudden, sharp tug – a swirling darkness in his vision – and Justice blinked. When his eyes opened, he was no longer curled up beside Hawke.

He stood in Anders’ clinic, the packed dirt firm beneath his booted feet, shafts of light streaming in from above. He sighed – too much lyrium, or too much strength. He could feel Anders’ mind but it felt distant and quiet – he must have taken over fully again. This was not unpleasant – it was good to feel the air of the Fade again, to sense the resonating, inhuman call of his own kind rippling through the world around him. He tried not to feel the pang of loneliness at another failure. They had expected this. When he woke, he and Anders would be together again – even if it was not quite how he wanted it.

A long, gentle hand closed on Justice’s arm.

He turned, breath catching in his throat, and looked into Anders’ eyes. They were everything he’d remembered – warm and gold, surrounded by fine lines as his face split into a smile. He didn’t say anything – he didn’t have to. He slipped his hands into Justice’s hair, pulled him close, and kissed him.


End file.
